


A Darker Past

by ShotOfPatron



Category: Daredevil (TV), Elektra (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Prison, Comic References, Daredevil AU, Gen, Matty in Prison
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-23
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-03-31 20:34:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3991870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShotOfPatron/pseuds/ShotOfPatron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Matt hadn't been assigned to live with Foggy Nelson? </p><p>What if he ended up living with a total douche, who Matt accidentally kills while trying to keep his own girlfriend from killing him? Labeled as a murderer and sent to Rikers, Matt follows a different path.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The New Roomate

**Author's Note:**

> Matt's world was flipped when he met Foggy Nelson, but what if he hadn't had such a warm welcome, such a warm presence in his life, when he got to college?  
> This new roomate is pulled from the Ultimate Elektra and Daredevil comics, which I highly recommend to anybody that wants more stories about our favorite avocados in college.  
> But we are going much further than college, I promise you!

Matt's heart was racing as he walked toward his dorm room. The next chapter of his life was about to begin, and he was prepared to make the most of it.

He felt the sign on the outside of the door, but there was no braille label. He knocked twice and put his key into the lock. It worked, so he must be at the right place.

"What the hell?" The man that was already inside the room greeted.

"Um, is this room 312?" Matt asked.

"Yeah."

"Hi, I'm Matt." Matt said as he extended his hand, trying to hide his nervousness behind a friendly smile.

"Are you my fucking roommate?" The other guy responded, not taking Matt's hand.

"I was assigned to 312, so if this is also your room, yes, I guess we are roommates." Matt fought to keep a friendly tone, even though he already knew it was a lost cause.

"A blind guy. They assigned me a room with a blind guy. I can't wait to talk to my father about this."

"Is there a problem?" Matt asked.

"Yeah," the guy replied. "I've been assigned a cripple to take care of."

Matt's eyes widened. "You don't have to take care of me."

"It's not like you're going to take care of yourself."

"I have, for a while now, so I'm sure I'll be just fine."

"Well, the bed you're standing in front of is yours. I'm going to get out of here. Don’t, like, put your hands all over my stuff."

Matt took a deep breath as the guy stomped past him. "At least tell me your name."

"There's a sign on the door. If you are so independent, figure it out yourself."

Matt heard, and felt, the door slam. His roommate stomped away, leaving him to check out their room on his own. At least this way, it was faster than pretending to explore with the cane.

Matt concentrated and quickly got an impression of the layout. Within a half-hour he had unpacked his one bag and felt as settled as he ever needed to be. He sat on the bed and pulled out his instructions for getting getting the assistance the University was supposed to provide. He had read the materials twice already, but liked to be over-prepared.

He was halfway through when his roommate returned. Matt looked up, his fingers still on the page.

"You're still here." His roommate said.

"Yeah." Matt replied.

"Guess you aren't one for an active social life."

Matt looked up, staring directly toward the other man. His tone was even and cool as he replied. "You can jump to whatever conclusions you want, but you don't know anything about me. I want to share this room with you as little as you want to share it with me, but here we are."

"Don't have to be an ass about it." The roommate said.

"Neither do you."

"I wasn't being an ass."

Matt took the paper he was reading and placed it on his desk. "I'm going to go for walk." He said, reaching for his cane by the door.

"Be careful, you're in New York now, kid. It's a big scary city. You might get lost."

"Yep." Matt replied, then closed the door behind himself.

...

Matt convinced himself that his lack of college friendships was a good thing. He went to class, studied in the library, and spent a fair amount of time in the gym. He did whatever he could not to go back to his room.

It hadn't taken him long to learn that his roommate was "Trey." Trey couldn't have lived a life more different than Matt's, full of privilege and excess as one of the politically connected Manhattan elite. He went to keggers, slept through class, and complained about women. Somehow, he was still making top grades.

Matt was doing well in his courses, and with access to the University gym he was getting stronger. He had never had access to gymnastic equipment, but now that he did, he loved the feeling of flying on the bars.

He didn't want to admit it, but he also loved the attention he was getting, while on the bars, from one particular person.

He heard her asking about him. He learned her heartbeat. He enjoyed her smell. So he avoided her.

Getting close to people wasn't a good idea. It wasn't something Matt Murdock was destined to enjoy.

But he was intrigued by this woman.

The week of Thanksgiving, stress levels were high. There were mid-term exams, professors weren't letting up on assignments, and the students were preparing to travel home in the middle of the semester. Matt was looking forward to a few days without most of the other men on his hall being around, particularly Trey.

As Matt walked the hall to his room, he heard his roommate suppress a laugh while walking past him. When Matt opened the door, he was surprised by the pleasant smell of roses. He scanned the room with his senses and found the flowers on his bed. Hesitantly, he reached for them. It wouldn't be the first time Trey had set a trap. Matt had gotten home plenty of times to find an obstacle course set up between the door and his bed. He just wasn't sure what the other man had planned, this time. He sniffed again, realizing that the roses were in two different places. Matt turned and carefully reached into the trash basket to find a note card that smelled like the flowers.

It was in Braille. "Matthew, stop avoiding me. Elektra."

Matt picked up the flowers and smiled. Then he remembered that getting close to people only results in heartache, so he stepped out of his room and threw them off the balcony.

Thanksgiving was lovely. Matt was able to stay in his room and study most of the day following it up with a long meditation, but it all came to a halt when somebody he hadn't heard approaching knocked at his room. With one breath, he identified the visitor.

He opened the door and smiled a warm smile in her direction. "You know I'm avoiding you." He greeted.

"You know I'm pursuing you." Elektra, his admirer from the gym, replied. "And since I'm here, it would be rude to not invite me in."

Matt wanted to be rude. He wanted to send her away. He didn't want to let anybody get close.

But she smelled of vanilla and he loved her voice, so he stepped back and motioned her into the room.

"I brought you some Thanksgiving dinner." She said, crinkling a plastic bag.

"Are you stalking me?" He asked.

"Maybe, just a little bit." She replied. "You aren’t that big of a mystery, Matt. Even if you went somewhere for Thanksigving, it wouldn't be as good as what I have here."

He could smell the food she brought and knew she was right.

"Why aren't you with your family?"

"We do dinner early. I spent the morning with my sensei, had dinner, and now I'm back here to be with you."

Matt avoided emotional attachments.

So he stepped forward and skipped to the physical portion of their relationship.


	2. That Greek Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt's relationship with Elektra is wonderful, but his roommate is the level of awful that you would only find in a comic book.

Matt tried to look at what was happening with Elektra as just sex, but when she curled up next to his body he could feel her, all of her. He could feel her temperature drop and her heart rate normalize. Even though he had been with other women, he had never felt anything like this.

As his body started to recover, she pulled away. "Come," she whispered. Her voice was as delicate as his hearing.

"No," he spoke, soft but firm. He had enjoyed the sex, but he wasn't going to let this go further.

"Yes," she stood over him and whispered the word into his ear while pulling him up. He barely felt in control of his own body as he obeyed. A moment later he felt clothes hit his body.

Minutes later, they were on the roof.

"This has to be the absolute worst idea." Matt said, though his smile betrayed his words.

"I think you're good enough not to fall off the edge of the building."

"I'm glad you have faith in me." Matt said. He was looking toward campus, enjoying how much information he could take in from this perspective.

"I think you are more capable than you let on." She wrapped her arms around him from the back. "Who's your sensei?"

"I don't have a sensei." Matt replied, truthfully. He wrapped his arms around hers.

"Who trained you?" She asked.

"Why are you so convinced I've been trained?"

"I've seen you, in the gym."

"I'm just playing around."

She moved her arms up, touching his muscles, kissing the back of his neck. He responded by taxing back and placing his hand on her thigh.

Then, without a change in her heartbeat or breathing, she had his arms restrained and had him pulled into a headlock.

Matt remained calm, but didn't fight back.

"Just the fact that you aren't more panicked than this means you are advanced." She said.

Matt reached out with his senses and explored the area. There were very few heartbeats nearby, and they all sounded like students that were asleep in their dorms. So with one quick, smooth movement, he flipped her over his head. While he freed himself, he also made sure she landed gently.

Elektra laughed. "You're a cool guy, Matty."

"Is that why you brought me up here?"

"No. I genuinely wanted to make out with you under the stars. But you should come home with me some time and meet my sensei. She would like you. Mostly because you're my friend, but also because you know what you're doing."

"You don't even know me." Matt argued.

"I know enough."

She kissed him, and he kissed back. They made out under the moonlight until she led him back down to his room under the glow of the sun rise. They curled up together on his twin bed and slept past noon.

Matt had been with girls before, but never like this. He'd never comfortably shared such a small space with someone and remained comfortable. When he woke up next to Elektra, it felt like they had been together his whole life. He listened to her breath, calm and steady. He enjoyed the moment.

"Where do you like to eat lunch around here?" She asked, after they woke up and shared a shower.

"I prefer the athletics dining hall."

She laughed. "Dining halls are closed for the weekend. Where do you like to go out and eat?"

"I don't, usually, but we should. Where do you like?"

Elektra took him to her favorite diner. Afterward, they kissed under a tree. She took him to the gym. They kissed outside the locker room. He cooked her dinner in the small communal kitchen. They shared a bottle of wine.

Saturday, they had to face reality.

"Trey will be home soon." Matt said. Actually, he could hear his roommate talking to somebody outside their building. "How about I walk you home?"

As they walked out of the building, Trey was walking in. "Well hello, sexy. Nice of you to help my roommate out."

"Bug off." Elektra replied.

"Feisty." Trey responded. "I like that. Were you here to read his books to him, cutey?"

Elektra leaned close to the other man. "We had sex all over your room." She whispered.

Trey's eyes widened. "I thought Matty here was gay!" He said before walking away, laughing at his own words.

"Come on, El." Matt said.

"How do you put up with him?" She asked.

"Avoidance, usually." Matt replied.

Matt didn't see Elektra for the next week, because he was focused on studying for midterms. She passed by at the gym one night, giving him a quick kiss for good luck. He told her that he would make it up to her on Friday.

They sat at Elektra's dorm drinking wine with the most amazing meal to have been cooked in a microwave. Matt had prepared the food. El had made sure her roommate would be out for the evening, and as the wine ran out, the young couple couldn't get their hands off each other.

Matt had just pulled off El's shirt when he heard the woman walking toward the room, distressed. "Where was your roommate tonight?" He asked.

"Don't worry. She's-"

There was a loud frantic knock. Elektra rushed to put on her clothes and looked through the peephole.

"Oh my God." She said, opening the door. "Mel, what happened?"

Matt could smell the fear and sex on the other woman. He sat up and put on his glasses. People seemed more relaxed around him when he had on his glasses.

"Oh, I didn't know you had somebody... I'll go..."

"Like hell you will. What happened?" Elektra asked.

Mel didn't respond.

"I'll let you ladies have your privacy." Matt said. He quickly gathered his things and stepped to the door. Elektra joined him and gave him a quick kiss. "Sorry. She's my best friend and she's really shaken up."

"I understand. Call if you need me."

He walked a few feet down the hallway and stopped.

"I... I didn't know where to go." Mel said. Matt could hear her heart racing.

"What happened?"

"I was attacked." She swallowed back her tears. "I was walking back from the library, and this guy just, he came from nowhere and he grabbed me."

Matt stood there and listened to the whole gruesome story.

"Mel, why didn't you go to the police?" Elektra asked.

"It was Trey, El. Do you really think the cops around here are going to do anything about him?"

Matt didn't need to hear any more.

...

He went back to his room and waited, not sure of what he would do, but knowing he couldn't live with a rapist and not do something. If Trey had come home in the first hour, he would have strangled him.

Then he realized what he would be giving up, if that happened.

Which didn't matter, because Trey didn't come home.

Elektra came over the next day.

"How's Mel?" Matt asked, pretending not to have heard everything.

"It's awful, Matt. She won't go to the police."

"Who did it?" He asked.

"Trey." She said, with one quick breath.

Matt bit his lower lip.

"I'm going to kill him, Matty."

Her voice was so calm, but Matt believed her. "That's a really bad idea, El."

"I know. But, this isn't his first, and it wouldn't be his last. I know I can take him."

"El, you need to let the law handle this. There's a system in place, you can't just-"

"Maybe you should leave, Matty."

"This is my room."

"I don't want to involve you."

"I'm not leaving you to their your life away." Matt could hear that Trey was on his way up to their room. "Let's go up on the roof and clear our heads."

"No."

Elektra heard the key in the lock and was out of Matt's arms and to the door before Trey had it open.

"Elektra!" Matt shouted, jumping after her.

"What the hell?" Trey shouted as she punched him in the face.

"Oh my God, what are you doing?" Another voice asked as Trey moved backwards into the breezeway, away from Elektra's attack.

"It's not so fun when the woman can fight back, is it?"

Matt grabbed Elektra around the waist while she was positioning to kick. He used her momentum to pull her away, the two of them crashing into a wall.

"That bitch is crazy!" Trey shouted, leaning against the balcony railing.

Matt could tell a crowd was growing, and he couldn't hold Elektra back.

"Matt, let go, this isn't about you." She said while Trey mocked her over Matt's shoulder.

"Should have known that a gorgeous chick would only come home with the blind guy if she was batshit crazy."

The crowd was growing, Elektra pulled away from Matt and started to lunge for Trey. Without thinking, Matt threw one punch to her face, knocking her back into the wall.

"Sorry," he whispered.

"Well done, cripple." Trey said, walking toward Elektra's body.

Matt clinched his fists and fought to control his breathing.

"That's what you get, bitch." Trey said, kicking Elektra as she tried to get up.

"Don't touch her." Matt said.

"The bitch attacked me." Trey said, bending over her body.

"Don't touch her." Matt repeated.

"You sure as hell have, maybe I want my turn, while you have her incapacitated."

"No," he said.

"I'm going to teach her a lesson-"

Matt pushed Trey off of Elektra. "You aren't going to touch her."

"You don't fucking touch me." Trey said, pushing Matt away and going back toward Elektra.

In one quick movement, Matt grabbed Trey and threw him away from Elektra, toward the railing. The force was harder that Matt intended and before anybody could react, Trey's body was plummeting to the concrete below.

Matt heard every bone that broke when Trey's body landed. There was no heartbeat.

Screams, cries and anger filled the hallway. Not sure what to do, Matt ran into his room and locked the door. He looked toward his bruised hands, sat on the bed, and started to shake.

From where Matt was sitting, he could hear Trey being pronounced dead at the scene. He heard the coroner zip the bag over his body. He heard Elektra run off without talking to anybody. He heard all of the witnesses tell the authorities about how they saw him do it. He heard the stories change, until Matt sounded like a mad man who punched a woman and threw his roommate to his death. He heard the police officers' footsteps come closer to his room, as though in slow motion.

"I'm sorry, Dad." Matt said to the empty room.

He crossed himself as the officers knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" He asked.

"NYPD."

Matt took a deep breath, put on his sunglasses, and opened the door. "May I help you?"

"Matthew Murdock, you are under arrest for the murder of Calvin Langstrom the Third."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, this pulled heavily from the Ultimate comics, but I hope that you have enjoyed it, even if you haven't read a single comic in your life.


	3. Rykers Prison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you murder somebody with as much political influence as Trey's family, there's no hope for a fair trial. Matt ends up in Rykers. Is this what's left of his life?

There was nobody to step up in Matt's defense. The few people that believed he was innocent either disappeared or were unwilling to speak against the Langstrom family, on the record. The most important disappearance was Elektra, who had cleaned out her dorm for a clear escape before ever coming to Matt, and was nowhere to be found.

Matt left the case in the hands of his court-appointed public defender and focused on survival. His attorney felt certain he could avoid the death penalty, and possibly even reduce the sentence to something that would allow him freedom in twenty years, rather than spending his whole life behind bars.

Matt appreciated the effort.

After a week in solitary confinement he was granted a cane and allowed to be in general population. The cane was a few inches too short and poorly balanced, but having the accommodation allowed him to move freely without suspicion.

Matt insisted that he was acting in self-defense. He insisted that he was coming to Elektra's rescue. Unfortunately, the dorm full of witnesses saw him hit her, as if that was where the altercation started.

"I was protecting her." Matt said to his attorney for the hundredth time.

"I believe you." His attorney lied.

"I don't care if you believe me, as long as you defend me."

"Mister Murdock, are you aware of Mister Langstrom's political power? I will do my best, but you threw the wrong frat boy over a balcony."

"Then what about a change in venue? Move my case somewhere that isn't influenced by the Langstroms?"

"You are welcome to hire a private attorney and make that happen. I have ten other cases going to trial. If you're going to rely on a public defender, this is the case you get."

"You know I can't afford a private attorney."

"Then this is what we go with. Play along, hope for some pity from the jury, and get you a reduced sentence."

"I'm not the bad guy." Matt said.

"You aren't looking that good, at the moment."

"I'll lose my scholarship."

"That's the least of your concerns."

The trial was fast. Matt could tell that the jury was not on his side. Why would they be? Even his attorney wasn't on his side. He was sentenced to fifty years in Rykers Prison.

When Matt arrived at Rykers, he was given standard bedding and a cavity search. The sheets felt like sandpaper against his skin.

He shared his cell with a man arrested for armed robbery. He claimed to have been set up. Matt knew he was lying. Matt was surprised at how few of the prisoners that claimed to be innocent really were.

Was he?

He wasn't sure. It didn't matter.

Matt couldn’t really get into a routine. The people around him were always changing, the circumstances were always changing. He was constantly having to determine who was a friend and who was trying to prey on the blind kid. But parts of it did get easier. He adjusted to the food, forgot about comfortable sheets, made himself at home in the gym, and listened to people.

He went for a year without any Braille books, relying solely on audiobooks in that time. The first time he was able to run his fingers over the formerly familiar bumps, he worried that he had forgotten how to interpret their meaning, but it quickly came back to him. Soon enough there was a crowd watching him read with his fingers.

“For my next trick, I’ll brush my own teeth.” Matt said, feeling self-conscious about the attention.

“Say what you want, Murdock, but you are a freak.”

“Um, okay.”

It wasn't much later when the older man approached him. They had crossed paths on occasion, but never spoken. Matt hadn’t tried to make any friends, only survive.

“Murdock.” He said.

Matt stopped and pulled his cane close.

“Are you Jack’s boy?” The man asked.

“Who’s asking?” Matt replied.

“Floyd Preston. I used to train at Fogwell’s.”

Matt studied the man in his own way. So far, he was honest. “You knew Jack Murdock?” He asked.

“He was a good man. Thought the world of his son, too.”

“Yeah,” Matt responded. “Well he’s gone, now.” He said, then he swung his cane and headed toward dinner.

“I’ve seen you in the gym. I bet you are as strong as him, in a fight.”

“I’ve never stepped foot in the ring. He didn’t want me to.”

“You mean to tell me you are in here for reading books? Or some white-collar sort of deal?” Floyd asked.

“No. Maybe I should have gone into the ring, like him. I’m just at a slight disadvantage.”

“I bet you could still fight.”

“Well, in forty-nine years, we can find out.”

“Tonight, come to the laundry room, after dinner.”

“What for?”

“We can’t talk about it here. Just come.”

Matt was cautious as he approached the laundry room that evening. There had been plenty of attempts to take advantage of him, so he was using the opportunity to overhear the conversations inside before entering. He didn’t get any sense of eminent danger, so he proceeded.

"Murdock!" Floyd welcomed.

"What the hell, Preston? The blind kid?" Another man asked.

"I was kind of wondering the same thing." Matt added.

"This kid has fighting blood." Preston explained. "His dad was incredible. I'm betting that even without being able to see, he could take half the guys in here."

"I'm not a fighter." Matt said.

"I heard you weren't in here for tax fraud." One of the other guys said.

Matt swept his cane and turned to leave.

"Murdock, wait." Floyd shouted.

"I don't know what this is, but I don't want to be a part of it."

"It's not what you think. We just get together every now and then to throw a few punches, as a release and shit." Floyd explained.

"So you invited the blind guy to be your punching bag?"

"Thought you might enjoy getting a few swings in yourself. Your old man always said it was when he felt most alive. You been feeling alive, Murdock?"

"None of this is what my father wanted."

"He's not here to have a say in it, is he?"

Matt took a deep breath. "Any of you guys any good at martial arts?"

The first punch was pain like Matt hadn't felt in years. It took his breath away and gave him life, all at the same time.

Eventually, Matt knew most of the inmate's real stories. At least, he knew which ones were afraid to be there, which ones were proud to be there, who was innocent and who was a monster.

The nights he was up against the monsters were the best in his life. He didn’t hold back.

Four years into his lifetime at Rykers, he woke up sore from one of the basement matches. One of the officers was shaking him.

"Get up, Murdock."

"Inspection?" Matt mumbled into his pillow. He didn't want any questions about what felt like a black eye.

"Visitor."

"I don't get visitors." Matt replied. "There's nobody on my list."

"He says he's your attorney, actually."

"Don't have one of those, either."

"Now you do. Come on."

Matt dragged himself from the bed and slipped on his sunglasses. "Show me the way." He said, holding out his hand.

"You know we aren't allowed to touch, Murdock." The guard responded.

"Yeah. It would just make my life so much easier."

He followed the guard through hallways and corridors he hadn't traveled in years, until he was led into a small room and directed to a chair.

"Wow," said a voice from across the table. "Are you okay?"

Matt scowled. "No, actually. I'm Matt. Who are you?"

There was the rustling of clothing."Franklin Nelson, but everybody calls me Foggy." He stood and extended his hand across the table. Matt ignored it.

"Oh, um, I was offering my hand, to shake..."

Matt lifted his hand to the other man.

"Wow, that's a grip."

"Why are you here?" Matt asked.

"I'm with the Freedom Project." Foggy said.

"So, why are you here?" Matt repeated.

"I want to prove that you shouldn’t be here."

"I'm not innocent."

"You aren't guilty, either."

"There are people here who are innocent." Matt said. "You should be working for them."

"I don't want to work for them. The project is already looking at their cases. But I have a feeling you already know about that."

"You shouldn't spread the resources so thin by helping me, then."

"You shouldn't be in here." Foggy said.

"I killed a man."

"Saving a woman."

"That story doesn't exist."

"I think it does. I want to tell it."

"Why? So you can get a book deal?"

"To prove that the justice system works!" Foggy shouted. His voice was filled with energy and optimism.

Matt laughed. "You must be new at this. Did you just graduate?"

"I'm in my first year of law school."

"So, you lied about being an attorney."

"If you let us take your case there is a licensed attorney willing to add you to his case load."

"Why my case? Why not Rodriguez, Smitherman, Dinkley-"

"The Project is looking into all of them. I wanted to know who was putting their cases together to send to us."

Matt sat back and nodded, biting his lower lip.

"It only took one phone call to find out who was helping these guys at Rykers plead their cases. Then I found out it's the blind guy that saved the rest of us from that asshole Trey, in college, who happens to also be the same guy that lost his sight saving some dude from getting hit by a truck when I was growing up in the Kitchen. So I looked into your case, and I think you are the one that needs a good retrial."

Matt took a few deep breaths then looked up. "You grew up in Hell's Kitchen?"

"Yep. My mom wanted me to be a butcher."

"My dad wanted me to be an attorney."


	4. The Appeal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Foggy helps Matt build his case, and a friendship is born.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the folks that pointed out the paragraph spacing. It's fixed, now! Thank you, also, for all of the positive reactions to the last chapter. Now, let's have more Foggy and Matty!

A week later, Foggy visited Matt again. He had a voice recorder and ten pounds of paperwork to review.

"You are wasting your time." Matt said.

"Do you have better plans?"

"I could be helping you learn about Johnson, who is serving a life sentence because he was standing next to another black guy that fired a gun."

"Let's just accept that I make poor life choices and want to spend my unpaid internship trying to help you out."

"Fine."

"Good. Now, let's dissent from the God-damned apathy."

Matt straightened up. "Blasphemy and mis-use of Marshall in one sentence. Impressive."

"You're religious?" Foggy asked, then shook his head. "Wait, you know Marshall?"

"We must dissent from the indifference. We must dissent from the apathy. We must dissent from the fear, the hatred and the mistrust. I haven't thought about Marshall in a long time."

"But you memorized his words that explain exactly why I should be here, working on your case."

"I was going to be an attorney." Matt said, with a shrug.

"You still could be, man. We get your case reversed, you could go back to school, you could make it work."

"That's not my path, anymore."

"The world needs people that memorized Marshall on the outside. I'm going to get you there. Let's start with your case."

...

The third time Foggy visited, the pile of papers was heavier.

"Dude, what happened to your face?" Foggy asked.

"Nice to see you, too." Matt replied.

"Are you getting beat up in here? Should I petition-"

"I moved to a new bunk. Got a little disoriented last night and ran into a post."

"Even more reason to get you living on your own. A steady environment."

Matt shrugged. "I'll believe it when it happens. What's on the agenda today?"

"I brought you some paperwork from the original case." He pushed a stack of papers toward Matt. "They are organized by sketchiness. I thought we could go through and you could help me figure out where the legal holes may be."

Matt rolled his eyes and reached forward.

"Don't worry, it's all in Braille."

"They normally won't let Braille documents in here. They say they can't scan them." Matt ran his fingers over the page. "Can I keep these, and call you with what's missing, or something?"

"I guess." Foggy replied.

"Then we can use this time to go over other details."

"Okay."

"What are my odds of getting an appeal?"

"Good. Like, high."

"What about a re-trial?"

"I'm not sure." Foggy lied.

"I'll give you honesty, Mister Nelson. I expect the same."

"Foggy. Call me Foggy."

"Foggy, what are my chances of getting a re-trial?"

"Low. We need to focus on an appeal."

"Precedent?" Matt asked.

Foggy reviewed every detail of his plans for Matt's case that he could review in the two hours they were allowed to meet. Matt grilled him on details better than any professor or current classmate.

"You would make one hell of an attorney, Murdock."

"Thanks."

"Next week?"

"I'll be here."

"Take care of yourself. That bruise looks horrible."

...

Matt's hands shook as he tried to tie the tie that went with the suit that Foggy had provided. He sighed with frustration at how he couldn't get his nerves under control.

His problem was less about the trial, and more about the fact that he was off of Rykers Island, and was experiencing a bit of sensory overload. He could meditate, but he only had fifteen minutes before the guards would take him to the courtroom.

He did what he could before Foggy interrupted.

"You okay, Murdock?"

"N-not really." He replied. Then, noticing that he made Foggy more nervous by saying that, he added. "Just haven't had to tie a tie in years." He added a fake smile for the other man's benefit.

"It looks fine to me. You look good, buddy. Especially compared to that first day I met you."

Matt laughed. "That wouldn't take much."

"Here comes Olaf, to escort you to the courtroom. I'll be sitting right behind you. It's going to go great."

Matt smiled.

"Olaf isn't his real name, by the way." Foggy whispered. "His badge says 'Wilson.'"

There was something about Foggy that always made Matt smile.

Court was as Matt remembered. There was an extra bitterness when he was in the courtroom. His whole life, up until when his privileged roommate toppled over that balcony, he wanted to be in court. He had idolized this place, this institution, everything that it represented.

But it had failed him.

Listening to the attorneys was like watching an ex-girlfriend with her new lover. He had wanted this life.

The judge was sympathetic and agreed to hear the appeal. Foggy hugged Matt, who was fighting back tears.

...

For six months, Foggy visited Matt every week to prepare for the appeal. Half of the time they didn't discuss the case, though.

"I went to a party near campus this weekend. It was a nightmare. I drank cheap vodka and puked all over the bushes. Vodka doesn't agree with me. You got a drink of choice, Matty?"

"Not really. How did things turn out?"

"I went home, alone, again."

"You are a catch, Foggy. Somebody will notice that, soon enough."

"How are things on the inside? Nobody's trying to make you their bitch, are they?"

Foggy asked this every week. Matt never told him that he was, essentially, the person that the other prisoners bowed to. He had earned a lot of respect in those late night fights.

"I'm fine, Foggy." Matt replied.

"Any good gossip?"

"That guy that was sentenced to death for killing those kids, he is truly guilty."

"I didn't have any doubts, there."

"He's guilty for far more than they charged him. I'll be surprised if he survives in here very long. The things he’s bragging about… there are plenty of people in here that are still disgusted by the bottom of humanity."

Matt could tell that Foggy's heart was racing.

"Are you sure you aren't in danger?"

"Foggy, I've survived here for almost five years, now. I know how to stay out of trouble."

“Something’s bothering you. I can feel it.”

Matt bit his lower lip and fidgeted.

“Come on, buddy. You can tell me.”

Matt took a deep breath. “I’m not scared of being in here. I’m scared of being out there.” He spoke, quietly.

Foggy stopped breathing for a moment. “Oh.”

“If I get out of here, what am I going to do, Foggy? ‘Hi, I’m Matt Murdock. I was valedictorian of my high school class, but I spent my college years in prison. Oh, and I can’t see.’ I’m sure the employers will be lining right up.”

“You could go to school. Hell, I bet we could talk to Columbia-”

“With what money? I was there on a full scholarship, it’s not like that will still be waiting. It’s not like they hand those out to guys that have been in prison for the past five years. Columbia’s not happening. Not for me, anyway.”

“Then there’s ESU, there are grants, loans. I’ll ask around and see what’s available.”

Matt calmed himself down. “That's not my world anymore, Foggy. I appreciate it, though.”

“No problem. I… I’ve come to think of you as a friend, and I promise that when we get you out of here, I’m not going to abandon you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm shot-of-patron on Tumblr, if you ever want to discuss avocados!


	5. Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt is free, but is he ready?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay! Thank you for all of the enthusiasm for this story. I had written a bit ahead, and wanted to make sure nothing in this section needed to be altered.

The attorney working with Foggy was amazing, and Matt was fighting tears as he walked out of the courthouse a free man, holding his friend’s elbow. “No comment.” Foggy said, over and over. Matt had no idea where they were going, but he held tight and followed the other man for six blocks.

“I think we finally lost them.” Foggy said.

Matt knew they had been alone for at least three blocks. He still couldn’t form words.

“Welcome to freedom! Want to celebrate with a drink?”

“Yeah,” Matt squeaked out. “Actually, some food would be nice. Something fresh.”

Foggy led Matt into a restaurant and sat in the darkest corner he could find. “They have everything here, buddy. Burgers, pizza, wings…”

Matt ordered a salad, burger, and dessert. Foggy added to this gluttony with a glass of fine scotch. The liquor reminded Matt of his childhood.

“Here’s to innocence.” Foggy toasted.

“Here’s to Counselor Nelson.” Matt responded.

“I’m not a real attorney yet, you know.”

“You will be, and you will be fantastic.”

The scotch went straight to Matt’s head, and he was unable to focus on the sounds around him. The good part was that it also numbed his senses a little, keeping him from going into full overload. Being back in the city was going to take some adjustment.

“So, temporary careers for Matt Murdock, until he gets back into college.” Foggy started, over dessert and more scotch.

“Maybe I can paint houses.” Matt suggested.

“Overqualified.”

“Underqualified.” Matt corrected.

“You could be a butcher. My mom always wanted me to be a butcher.”

“I don’t think I want to spend that much time around processed meats. Think I could be a bus driver?”

“I sincerely hope not. What about teaching? You could teach.”

“Not without a college degree.”

Matt went to pick up his drink, and spilled it across the table. “Oh, shit. Blind moment.”

“It’s okay, it was mostly empty.”

“Blind and drunk. This was probably a bad idea.”

“You ready to head out?” Foggy asked.

“Yeah. I think I could sleep now.”

Foggy left cash for the waitress and led Matt out onto the sidewalk. “I have one question for you, Matt.”

“Just one?” Matt held a little more tightly to his elbow than normal.

“The girl, Elektra. What happened to her?”

“I wish I knew.”

“I saw pictures of her, in your court files. She was smoking.”

“She was trouble.”

“Well, yeah. With a capital ‘T.’”

“I missed the city. It has it’s own smell.” It wasn’t just a diversion.

“Rotten garbage and rat shit?” Foggy asked.

“Yep, and exhaust fumes.”

Foggy started laughing. “Okay, we’re at my building.”

Matt followed him up to the small one-room apartment.

"It isn't much, but I'm pretty much in class or working all the time, so I don't mind you hanging around until you can figure out your own deal."

Matt tried to survey the room with his senses, but he hadn't been drunk in a very long time and everything was dancing around, mocking him. He used his cane to find the couch, which carried the smell of everything Foggy had ever eaten, but it was soft. "You're couch feels so good." He said, after sitting.

"Do you, um, want me to show you around the place? Or..."

"No, I'm just going to stay here." Matt leaned back and relaxed.

Foggy pushed a pillow into his hands. "At least lay down."

Matt pulled off his shoes and placed them on the floor by his cane. He took off his tie, jacket, and glasses then laid flat on the couch. "Foggy?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm drunk."

Foggy laughed. "You deserve to be." He ran a glass of water in the small kitchen and carried it over. "You should drink some water."

Matt extended his hand and Foggy placed the glass in his grip. "Back of the hand." Matt slurred, sitting up to take a drink.

"What?"

"When you're handing stuff to the blind guy, touch it to the back of the hand. Then I can grab it myself and whatever. They taught me that at blind school. Nobody bothered at Rykers. I don't know why I even remember."

"Got it."

Matt sat the glass by the couch and laid back down. He was staring toward the ceiling. Foggy had never seen him without his glasses on, and couldn’t help but stare. Which led him to a thought. "Matt?"

"Hm?"

"Do you get the spins?"

Matt laughed at the question. "Yeah."

"Oh."

"What?"

"I thought you might have gotten a pass on that one."

"It's, like, an inner-ear thing. I think it's worse for me, actually, because my senses are so..."

Matt trailed off.

"Sensitive?" Foggy finished.

"Yeah... Something like that."

Foggy sat there a minute, in case Matt was going to say more. "Well, I'm going to go on to bed, which is actually just about ten feet in front of you, here. I'd feel better if I thought you knew where the bathroom was."

Matt swung his arm around and pointed in the direction of the bathroom door.

"That's freaky."

"Lucky guess." Matt replied.

"Still freaky."

...

Matt woke to the smell of coffee. His stomach flipped and he swallowed down a wave of nausea. For a moment, he laid back and oriented himself.

The overwhelming sounds and smells of the city were lessening as Matt regained his focus. Foggy was in the shower, and the coffee he smelled was two floors away. The cars going by on the street changed from individual noises searing into his head, each with their own squeaky brakes and loose fanbelts, to a sea of white noise. He could listen to a damaged muffler, if he concentrated, but there were so many other things in the world he wanted to pay attention to.

Things such as his temporary roommate, singing some ridiculous song now that he was out of the shower. Matt smiled at the other man's light-heartedness.

A few moments later, Foggy opened the bathroom door and stepped out. "Good morning, sunshine!"

The chipper voice stabbed at the headache Matt was fighting, and he groaned. "What time is it?"

"Half past get-the-hell-up. I made that appointment at the bank that you wanted, so you can sort out your finances and get back on your feet."

"Thank you." Matt said, sitting up and reaching for his watch. In the process, he knocked over the glass of water sitting by the couch. "Oh, shit," he said. "Sorry."

"It's okay." Foggy said. Matt felt a towel push against his hand as Foggy wiped the floor. "Just water."

Matt sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "I'm not usually a klutz. I just haven't drank in five years."

"Oh yeah. I guess I was a little rough on the re-entry."

"It was fun. Now, anything I need to worry about between here and the bathroom?"

"Clear path, and I totally forgot to give you this, last night." Foggy jumped up and handed a bag to Matt. "Toiletries. Toothbrush, razor, that sort of stuff."

Matt fidgeted for a moment, sincerely touched by the gesture. "I know I've said this so many times that it's probably lost its meaning, but thank you."

"It's toiletries, not the life you lost. Not a big deal, man."

Matt smiled a nervous smile and got up. He walked to the bathroom, but turned around instead of going in. "Foggy, it doesn't bother you that... That I really did push that guy off the balcony?"

"You aren't a cold-blooded killer, Matt." Foggy said the words without the least bit of hesitation, nervousness, or lack of truth.

Matt gave a weak smile, and without saying anything more stepped into the bathroom.

...

By the end of the day, Matt had access to his old bank account, an iPhone, a cane that was the right length, and some clothes. Foggy had to go to campus, so Matt spent most of the evening alone in the apartment setting up his phone, then decided to make himself useful.

"Whoa, am I in the right place?" Foggy asked as he closed the door.

"All you've done for me, the least I could do was help out a little."

"You can live with me forever. I mean it. When I find that special woman and we decide to get married, you might be a part of that deal."

"That sounds awkward."

"As long as you like blondes, we'll figure out a way to make it work. Is there somewhere special I should put my books?"

"This is still your apartment. Put them wherever you want. I think you have a desk over there. I didn't touch that, was afraid of shuffling papers."

"I kind of have my own system going there. How did you... You organized my kitchen. How did you know where to put stuff?"

"That's kind of where this started. I was playing with some apps on the phone, blind stuff. There's this one that reads labels, so I wanted to try it out. I found the Chef Boyardi in the cabinet with the coffee mugs. I hope you don't mind that I organized a little."

"No, I don't... Wait, did you throw anything out?"

"Only if it smelled like toxic waste. I had no idea where to take the trash bags, so..." Matt pointed to two sealed trash bags neatly placed in the corner of the apartment.

"Oh my God, I didn’t even think about the fact that you can’t read expiration dates. Did you eat anything disgusting?”

Matt laughed. “I could tell it was disgusting long before I put anything in my mouth.”

“Good. So, the phone reads things to you?”

Matt pointed across the room. “I learned you are a fan of the Bolts.”

Foggy checked where he was pointing. It was the general direction of a poster for his favorite minor league baseball team. “Whoa. Can you show me how it works?”

"Um, sure."

Matt spent the next half-hour showing Foggy what he had discovered on his phone the past few hours. Foggy laughed at the mechanical voice, once Matt slowed it down enough for him to understand.

When Foggy had been thoroughly entertained, Matt had him enter his name in his still-empty contact list. Foggy insisted that he add a picture of Bradley Cooper with his number.

The next day, Matt was on his own. Foggy left early to be on campus all day, but gave Matt a key to the apartment and assured him that he would answer if Matt called.

Matt hoped he remembered the streets as well as he thought as he set out to reconnect with his youth.

The heavy doors of the cathedral were a symphony, themselves, as Matt pulled them open.  

Inside the building was a place that never seemed to change. His cane still echoed off the floor to the high walls, with the sound singing off the wooden pews. The lingering smell of incense, candles, and the people that fill the space every week danced it's way to his nose. Matt was almost shaking when he stopped to cross himself before taking a seat in the pew.

He hadn't forgotten his religion while he was in prison, but the nondescript room that served as the nondenominational holy space behind bars couldn't compare to this place that had practically been his home.

He sat in the pew, looking toward the altar, but paying attention to far more.

There was one other person in the chapel with him, somebody he didn't recognize. The office workers were having a mindless discussion about the weather. A young girl was in one of the back rooms, crying. Matt listened more carefully to find that there was an older woman with her.

He should pray, but he wasn't sure that he remembered how. He reached forward and lowered the kneeling platform.

He leaned forward and bowed his head, but he could only listen to the girl, talking through her sobs.

She was scared to go home. She wanted to sleep at the church. Matt concentrated harder and heard her heart racing. She wouldn't tell the older woman why she didn't want to go home, but it was obvious that she was scared.

A man joined, and the girl's heart raced faster. He was there to take her home, but his presence scared the girl.

What bothered Matt more was that he recognized the man's voice. He had been at Rykers, and he was one of the people that needed to stay there.

Matt fought to control his breathing, still bowed as though in prayer. He fought the urge to chase the man, to rescue the girl. Matt couldn't do anything that would send him back to prison, and if he got his hands on that man, he would hurt him.

He sat back in frustration and raised the kneeling platform. The sound of the wood crashing into the pew echoed loudly. The other man in the chapel-Matt assumed he was the priest-gasped at the noise.

Matt crossed himself but remained sitting.

The priest walked closer. "Everybody gets mad at him, from time to time." He said. His voice was calm, soothing.

Matt looked toward the man. "I don't believe we've met."

"I'm Father Lanthom." The man said, taking a seat near Matt, on the same row.

Matt turned toward the man. "Matthew Murdock."

"I'm available for confession, if you need to get something off your mind."

Matt nodded. "How much time do you have?"

"At least an hour before I need to be anywhere. Would you like a latte?"

Matt smiled. "Sure."


	6. The old and the new

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt works on his new life.

The man guided Matt to a room beside the Chapel. Matt sat down while the priest prepared the coffee.

"I came here hoping to find Father Doran." Matt said.

"He hasn't been here for over three years." Father Lanthom responded. His tone was cool and calm. "Are you that long overdue for confession, or have you been away? College, perhaps?"

"Something like that."

"Seal of confession applies over lattes, Matthew. You are welcome to discuss anything you'd like."

Father Lanthom sat across from Matt and pushed a drink toward his hand.

"Thank you, Father.” Matt took a sip and tried to figure out where to begin. “Um..."

"You can skip the technicalities, if it's easier, but how long has it been since your last confession?"

"Five years." Matt said.

"Hm," Father Lanthom responded. It wasn't a judgmental noise, just a gentle acknowledgment.

Matt took a deep breath. "I grew up in Hell's Kitchen. My father was a boxer. He... He never wanted me to follow in his footsteps."

Matt took a sip of his coffee, then continued to tell the priest about his father’s boxing history.

"He died when I was young, but I worked hard, like he wanted. I got a full scholarship and went to college."

Matt stopped.

“Perhaps if you tell me what happened…”

“I never made it through the first semester.”

Father Lantom waited for Matt to go on. While Matt composed his thoughts, the priest looked at the young man more closely. In the darkness of the chapel, he looked youthful and innocent, but under the florescent lights of the church kitchen, he could see that the man before him was hardened.

"You don't have to start at the beginning. If there is something more recent for which you have come to seek forgiveness..."

"I've been in prison."

Matt said the words calmly, keeping his head down, as though avoiding eye contact.

"I... I was responsible for a man's death, and I was punished for that. I deserved to be punished, but others felt differently and fought for my freedom. They were successful, and I'm truly thankful to be out of there, but..."

Father Lanthom was taken aback. He watched the young man battle with himself.

"Did you murder this man?"

Matt chewed on his lower lip a moment. "At one time, the State of New York saw it that way."

"Did you?"

"It was an accident. I was protecting a friend." Matt looked up. "The law has so many different ways to look at murder. Was it premeditated? Was it manslaughter? Was it self defense? They've applied these labels, the law has judged me, and determined that it wasn’t murder. But still, I took a life, and it changed the course of my own. I don't know who I am, anymore."

"Are you here for penance, or to be told who you really are?"

"A bit of both." Matt admitted.

...

When Foggy saw what was waiting for him at home, he couldn't form a coherent sentence. "M-matt? How did... Where did... What the... You bought a pan?"

"I didn't want to hunt for yours, and I'll need my own, anyway, when I get my own place set up, and really? You noticed that first?"

"I noticed the salad, and whatever smells so delicious, and I don't own any pans that shiny. I probably don't own anything that shiny."

"I didn't notice."

"Hah! Blind joke. Keep em coming, Matty. What are you cooking?"

"Bluefin, I hope. There was a bit of a language barrier at the fish market, so I had to take the word of a fish salesman who barely spoke English that I was buying what he claimed."

"You went to the fish market?"

"It's just a few blocks."

"You amaze me, Matt. Your cooking amazes me."

"You haven't tasted it, yet."

"It already smells better than anything I've ever cooked in my life."

Matt laughed.

"You really shouldn't have. You need to get back on your feet, not spend money cooking me dinner."

Matt shrugged. "I have a little bit of money left from my dad. I didn't think that cooking you one nice meal would use up those funds. You do know the crap I’ve been eating the past five years, right?"

"I don't even know what a bluefin is. Are we actually eating the fin?"

Matt laughed. "I hope not."

...

Foggy sat for a moment, staring at his empty dish.

"Are you okay?" Matt asked.

"I'm more than okay. That was incredible. I'm trying to decide if you would notice me licking the plate."

"Even if I would, I'll pretend that I don't."

"You're a good friend, Matty."

...

The job search was hard.

As much as Foggy talked about getting Matt into college, Matt knew that he needed an immediate income. Foggy's hospitality was great, but the other man would want his space, eventually.

"When I get through this exam tomorrow, I'll help you put together a resume." Foggy said.

"What could I put on a resume, Foggy? 'High school valedictorian, star inmate, definitely not guilty?'"

"Maybe another line about your experience as an alter boy?"

Foggy grinned at Matt, relaxing when the other man broke into a laugh.

"I'll work something out." Matt said.

"I've got faith in you, buddy."

...

Matt almost literally stumbled into the opportunity when he was frustrated and out of options. While he was sure he would have been frustrated without his special powers, it was worse to know how blatant the lies were.

"Sorry, that position was filled last week."

"We're only considering folks with a college degree."

"Changed our minds, decided to have one of our existing employees take over those tasks."

He had been given the excuses to his face, usually after seeing him and his cane, but sometimes after, for some reason, his not-guilty background came up.

He knew he could overcome this. Things would work out and he would end up on his feet. But in the meantime, he collapsed against a building and enjoyed the cool concrete against the back of his head, while he regrouped.

He was well aware that people were noticing him as they walked by. He was adjusting to being back in the city, at blocking out the voices, but the pity in everybody's voice kept breaking through.

Ten deep breaths. In, out, recenter, get up, move on.

He was five breaths in when the footsteps stopped in front of him. "Murdock?"

He looked up toward the voice. His first thought was that this was somebody from Rykers, but then he realized that wasn't possible. This was a woman. "Yes?"

"I'd recognize that mop of hair anywhere."

Matt stood up, holding his cane in front of him. "I'm sorry, I..." It was rare that he couldn't identify somebody from their unique blend of voice, smell, and heartbeat, but he had been away a while.

"It's Josie. I guess you might not remember me as much as I remember you."

Matt lit up. "Josie! Sorry, yeah, I remember you. You still have the bar?"

"I'm headed there right now, to get ready for the evening. Come with me and catch up."

"Sure," Matt replied.

Josie had been a Hell's Kitchen fixture for all of Matt's life, running a popular bar that survived as the neighborhood changed through the years. Matt remembered her as a pretty woman, running the place with her own magic that kept everybody in line, but still kept it feeling fun. She also didn't mind that Jack Murdock occasionally brought his son along, while he was having a few early drinks.

Matt held her elbow as they walked the few blocks. "You been away at college or something?"

"Or something." Matt replied.

"Learning a trade? Have you come back to be one of the hoity toity new elite in Hell's Kitchen?"

"I'm just hoping to get by."

Josie stopped, looking at the young man in front of her. "Everything okay, Matty? You weren't living on that sidewalk where I just found you, were ya?"

"No, I'm staying with a friend. It's temporary."

Josie unlocked the door to the bar and Matt walked inside. He took a deep breath and observed the room in his own way. "It smells different in here." He said.

"Matty, you know it's weird when you say things like that."

Her words were like a blow to Matt's gut. A reminder of things that had once come straight from the mouth of his father, something he hadn't heard in over a decade. He swallowed down the emotion and smiled. "Sorry. So, you've cleaned the place up?" Matt ran his hands over the bar.

"Some people actually refer to it as respectable. The downside is that I have to take credit cards and put up with requests for fancy cocktails. Can't believe these people actually have me cutting up limes every evening. But they pay $10 and up for those fancier cocktails, so it all evens out."

"Josie's high class watering hole. Never thought I'd see the day." His cane hit a barstool as he continued to explore.

"From the way you are about to walk right into the jukebox, I don't think you do see the day. But yeah, this place is cleaned up and doing better than ever. Come back here while I set up for tonight."

Matt followed her voice to a back room where she was moving boxes around. "I've missed having your dad around, Matty. There's still a few of the good ol' boys that stop by regularly. I charge them less than the new customers, I know they can't afford the new Hell's Kitchen. But none of them have the heart that your father had."

Matt smiled nervously. "Can I help you with... Whatever you're doing?"

"Sure. Let's take these boxes out to the bar." She placed his hand on a shelf. Matt took a box and followed her through the swinging doors.

"Stop." Josie said. "Sit that box on the counter to your left and open it up."

Matt followed the instructions while Josie calmly moved around, doing other tasks.

"There's a cooler to your left, you mind taking those beers out and putting them inside while you tell me about your love life?"

Matt smiled as he figured out how to slide the cooler open. "Not anything to tell in that regard."

"I find that hard to believe. As handsome as you've grown up to be, the women must be falling over you."

"Only when I'm careless with my cane."

"Pscha. Only if you've been locked away."

Matt froze, having just sat a bottle into the cooler. He chewed on his lip, then kept going, but it was too late. He could hear Josie's heart racing. She walked up to Matt as he placed the last bottle into the cooler.

"Matty?"

He braced himself against the counter, not looking towards her.

"Matty, what happened?"

"It's a long story." He said.

"Customers won't start trickling in for another couple of hours." She replied.

"What do I do with the empty box?" He asked.

"Collapse it, sit it on the bar in front of you, and go get the one that was next to it."

Matt nodded and quickly made his way back to the storage room. When he got back to the bar, Josie was cutting limes.

"You know that I'm the last person to judge you, Matty. Tell me what happened, while you unload that box."

Matt sighed. "I hope you have plenty of boxes."

"When we run out of boxes to empty you can pull out one of those beers for yourself, sit at this bar, and keep talking."

Matt laughed. "Did you know I got a full ride to Columbia?"

"I'm not surprised. You always worked hard, and no matter what he said about himself, your father was a smart guy."

"He didn't want me to follow in his footsteps. He wanted me to use my brain, instead of my fists, and I listened to him. But one day I found out my roommate was a rapist."

Josie gasped. "Oh, Matty."

He smiled. "I actually didn't go after him, but the girl I was with... It was her friend. She attacked him outside our room."

Josie had stopped cutting and was staring at him.

"I accidentally pushed him off the balcony and was arrested for murder." The words spilled out. He quickly unloaded the box and went for another.

Josie followed him into the back room. "Did you get a fair trial?"

Matt laughed and shook his head. "His family was politically connected. My own attorney was on their side."

She put her hand on his arm. "You wouldn't believe how often I've seen that."

Matt looked toward her. "I spent five years at Rykers. I definitely would."

"Five years! How long have you been out? Here." She pushed another box into Matt's arms. "Next cooler, past the last one. I'll tell you when to stop."

Matt carefully walked to the second cooler and started unloading bottles. "I've been out about three days."

"No wonder I found you collapsed on the sidewalk."

"I was regrouping."

"I guess you are looking for a job?"

"Yes."

"I need a bar-back. Probably not the easiest environment for a blind guy, but you've been doing well so far. Hang out with me tonight and we'll see if it works."

"You don't have to hire me out of pity, Josie."

"Shush. I'm hiring you because you've got a strong back, you follow orders, and I know you are a good person. I won't be upset when you run out on me because you find something more fulfilling, either."

Matt smiled. "Thanks."

"Now fill up this cooler and I'll show you what to do with the ice."

Matt knew very little about bars. He spent most of the evening staying out of the way of Josie and her other bartender. But there was a rhythm to the way things worked, and he was able to figure out his role pretty quickly. At some point in the evening, he remembered to send Foggie a text to let him know that he would be home late.

At the end of the night, things had gone well, and Josie gave him fifty dollars in cash, with a promise that they would make it more official if he stayed over two weeks.

Matt felt good when he got back to Foggy’s apartment in the middle of the night.

“Where ya been?” Foggy mumbled.

“Working.” Matt said quietly.

Foggy re-positioned himself, waking up a little more. “Hope you aren’t selling your body, Matt. It’s a nice body and all, but I know you can do better. I mean, you can do better for income. I’m not sure your body can get better. I mean, shit. I should wait until I’m awake to talk.”

Matt laughed. “I was helping out at a bar in Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Bartending? Man, I bet you will make the best tips. You got that whole ‘wounded duck’ thing going for ya.”

“They aren’t letting me pour the drinks. She called it a bar-back.”

“She? You wooed a lady into hiring you? I need your skills, Matt. Teach me to be as cool as you.”

Matt laughed. “I’m exhausted. You have class tomorrow?”

“It’s Saturday. So no, but I have a paper to write, and a study date with Marci.”

“Marci?”

“She’s way out of my league, but I’m not questioning it.”

“Tell me all about her in the morning. Will it bother you if I take a shower?”

“Nope.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a long time I struggled with how Matty would get back on his feet in this world. When you look at the employment opportunities for the blind, it's a rough road. Then there is the matter of not having a college degree, and the options are even more limited. Throw in an accusation of murder and, well... I'm glad Josie came through, because if I had to write this story without her, Matty would have just taken a nap on that sidewalk and started looking for heroin or something.


	7. Death and Destruction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just as Matt is getting his life together, death and destruction rains down on New York City.

The lives of a law student and a bar-back didn’t coordinate well for the sharing of a studio apartment. Matt was ready for his own place, and within a week he was able to sign the lease on a tiny apartment of his own, back in Hell’s Kitchen. It was simple, with poor lighting, but it was clean and private.

Foggy cried when he helped him move in.

“Hey, you can come visit.” Matt said. “I think there’s room for two of us to sit in here.”

“Keep your key to my place. You can come anytime.”

“I’ll do that.”

“Meanwhile there’s this up and coming dive bar I recently discovered in this neighborhood. I might start hanging out there.”

“As long as you don’t scare off the other customers, that sounds great.”

The job at Josie’s was going great. Once he worked out a way to label the store-room, he was efficient enough to get his job done and pour a few drinks. Josie noticed that more women were coming around, with Matt behind the bar. She had no idea how he managed to smile in just the right direction, but she was ordering more high-end vodka to keep those fancy martinis flowing. Matthew Murdock was good for profits.

 

Things went really well for a few months.

 

The explosion woke Matt up and left him briefly disoriented. His ears were ringing, his room was shaking, and he could hear people screaming.

He could hear people screaming, everywhere.

He could tell that something was happening, but his senses couldn’t differentiate what was going on. Something was flying around, but it wasn’t a plane. There were noises, big noises, but they weren’t anything he had ever heard before. He sat on the floor, clear of the window, and called Foggy.

“Matt, thank God, where are you?”

“Sitting on my floor trying to figure out what the hell is going on.”

“It’s… I don’t know how to describe what it is, man. But they are telling folks to get underground. Do you have a basement?”

“There’s a Subway station at the end of the block.”

“I don’t think you should go outside. Whatever’s going on out there, it’s scary. It’s… Godzilla-scary, man.”

“Josie’s has a basement. That’s only a half-block away.”

“Do you remember what Godzilla-scary is like?” Foggy asked. Matt could hear the fear in his voice.

“Big monster, stomps a lot. No way that’s happening-”

Matt could hear it. The metal tearing into buildings, coming his way. “Foggy, it’s coming, I have to run. It’s going to be okay.” He grabbed his keys and sunglasses, but not his cane.

“Matt, wait! This fucker flies. It’s a flying Godzilla lizard monster. It’s not like you listening to traffic to cross Broadway.”

Foggy was talking into a dead line. Matt was already running.

He ran out of his room just in time to miss the Godzilla-scary tail that struck through. They were recommending that people go underground, but that wasn’t an option.

So he went to the roof.

Things were definitely not less-scary on the roof, but at least debris wasn’t falling around him anymore. He couldn’t get to Foggy, he wasn’t even sure he knew where Foggy was, but…

From the roof he could sense the creature that tore through his apartment. It wasn’t like he would be able to turn on the TV, later, and get a glimpse of that. It was truly phenomenal.

The beast was heading back toward the east side, so Matt made his way over to the next building, then took the fire escape down to ground level and ran to Josie’s.

Debris was everywhere, so even with his senses he had trouble finding the right entrance. But, amazingly, it was clear and undamaged. Matt unlocked the door and ran inside. “Josie!”

“I’m right here, Matty.” He heard from the store room.

“Are you okay?” He ran his hand down the bar as he ran toward her. Her heart was racing. he didn’t smell blood, but his senses were a little overwhelmed.

“I will be. Be glad you couldn’t see that thing.”

“I came close enough to know. Gonna need a new apartment.”

Josie pushed something against his hand. He made a puzzled look while he figured out what it was. “Josie, did you just give a blind man a shotgun?”

“Matty, I have no idea what’s going on out there, but I’m hoping you’ll help me protect this place when the looting starts.”

Matt nodded. “Of course.” He ran his hands over the gun. "I guess I could hit somebody with this?"

"It's not loaded." Josie replied. "You're good, Matty, but not that good."

Matt listened to the noises on the street. Everybody was still in shock, but in the distance, he could still hear the beast being fought. People weren’t thinking about causing trouble yet, they were still trying to survive. He took the moment to call Foggy.

“You okay?” Foggy answered.

“Yeah. I’m at Josie’s.”

“I told you not to-”

“My apartment was destroyed.”

“Oh.”

“Josie’s place is fine, but she’s worried about looters, so I’m going to stay here until things calm down.”

“That could be weeks, buddy.”

“Then I hope you bring us a pizza.”

“If we all get out of this alive, I’ll bring you a pizza. I’d offer to bring beer, but I’ve seen you drunk. And, you are in a bar.”

Matt laughed. “We’ll be fine, Foggy. You okay?”

“Yeah. You?"

"I'm good."

"Take care of yourself, okay?”

“I will.”

Josie turned on a TV while Matt barricaded the door with some tables, then they waited.

“Josie, why don’t you get some rest? I’ll stay up. This could go on for a while, you’ll need some sleep.”

“I don’t think I could sleep right now if you hit me with a vodka bottle, Matty. Do you need to rest?”

He shook his head. “Too much going on.”

So they waited.

Matt cleared the liquor bottles from the bar, locking them in the store-room. Josie kept one bottle of Scotch out for herself, though, and encouraged Matt to do the same. He declined.

The wait kept going. The news showed that the city was in turmoil. People were going crazy, roaming the streets, but they weren’t trying to get into the bar, yet.

Matt heard somebody trying to open the door. It was one man, who was alone. “Josie,” Matt said.

“I see him. Looks like just one man. Hopefully he goes away.”

The man tried at the door for a little while, but wandered away soon enough.

Hours later a whole crowd came down their block. They had raided a pharmacy earlier and were hyped to unnatural levels.

“Josie, I think things are about to get rough.”

Josie could see the crowd at the windows. “You really freak me out sometimes, Matty.”

Matt turned toward her and smiled.

“There’s a lot of them, and they are at the window.” She explained. “You have that shotgun ready?”

“For whatever it's worth.”

“I have my own. You stand there and look serious about firing that.” Josie directed.

“Yes, ma’am.” He replied.

A moment later the glass in the front window shattered, and the people were climbing over the tables that Matt and Josie had used to barricade the front of the store.

“There’s nothing here!” Josie shouted. “Move along!”

“We just need a place to hang out, lady.” One of the men replied as they all moved forward, quickly.

Josie didn’t hesitate to fire her gun.

Matt almost collapsed from the sound, but quickly recovered as one of the other men lunged at him. It turned out that the shotgun was great for hitting people. Before long, Matt and Josie had incapacitated all of the attempted invaders.

“You okay?” Matt asked.

“I’m fine.” Josie replied, too quickly. Matt knew she wasn’t telling the truth.

“I’ll move these guys outside, and maybe the authorities will pick them up, or take them to the hospital.”

“I’ll help.”

“No, you need to sit for a minute.”

Josie nodded. “Yeah, just a second, then I’ll come help.”

Matt cleared the path to the door, then slowly dragged the men outside. A couple of them started to regain consciousness, so he had another small fight on the street. At least Josie was safe. Matt carefully made his way back into the building.

"Matt?" Josie asked.

"Yeah?"

"Where's your cane?"

"Don't know." He replied.

"There's a lot of debris in the doorway, there. How did you get those men out without killing yourself?"

"Lucky, I guess. We should get some sort of barricade back up."

"You go, sit."

"I'm fine. We need to secure-"

"There's no use, Matt. You've heard the news. The cops have bigger things to deal with, it's anarchy in the streets. We need to get somewhere safe and hope that there's something left to start over with when this is over."

"You're giving up? Just like that?"

"We got lucky, Matty. If the next group of thugs has guns, what will you do?"

Matt took a deep breath. "We should still board up the window. Make it harder."

"I can't, Matty."

That's when Matt heard it in her voice. Then he concentrated and could smell her wound. "You're hurt."

"I'll be fine." Josie responded.

"Don't lie to me, Josie."

"What are you going to do, Matty? Dig this bullet out of my leg and patch me up? You know an ambulance won't make it out here for something like this."

"How bad is it?"

"A bullet in the muscle. I'm not bleeding to death or anything."

"So you just plan to ignore it?" He replied. "No. I'm getting you help."

"Matthew Michael Murdock, we are not leaving this bar."

May stood straight up. "Fine. Do you have a sewing kit?"

Matt was rummaging through Josie's personal closet when his phone announced Foggy's call. "You okay?" Matt answered.

"That's my line." Foggy responded.

"I asked first."

"I'm fine. I'm coming to Josie's."

"Foggy, it's too dangerous."

"Too late, I'm just a block away. It's incredible out here, man."

"I'm sure. I wish you hadn't taken this chance. But can you do me a favor?"

"Sure."

"Steal a sign off some other business. Something boring, like a tax office."

"What?"

"We need this place to look less like a bar." Matt explained.

"Got it. Foggy replied. Be there soon."

Matt finally found what he was looking for and headed downstairs as Foggy was standing off with Josie.

"Matt, please say something that will get her to stop aiming the shotgun at me."

"Josie, you met Foggy last week. He's on our side."

"He's carrying George's sign." Josie said.

"Foggy, even I remember that sign, it's like a historic landmark."

"Dude, I know. I got my hair cut there as a kid. This is my neighborhood, too. I found it in the street. You needed a sign, I found an important part of my old neighborhood in the street. We can give it back when this is all over." Foggy turned toward Josie. "Can you please not-shoot me, now?"

"Josie, you shouldn't be standing up, anyways." Matt added.

"I'm on a barstool, Matty. You find what you needed?"

"Yeah. Foggy, can you hang that sign up outside? There are some tools in the back room. Hide anything that makes this look like a bar."

"Okay." Foggy rushed across the room, stumbling over some debris.

"And don't hurt yourself!" Matt added.

"Got it." Foggy replied.

Matt turned back to Josie. "Can you get on the floor?"

"Sure."

She carefully sat on the floor and Matt crouched over her, momentarily using his senses to check the damage. It really wasn't that bad. The bullet was close to the skin.

"Can I, um, do you mind if I..." Matt hovered his hands over her leg.

"There are scissors at the top of that kit. I'll cut a big enough hole in these pants for you."

"Okay."

"It looks nasty, Matt."

"You want this?" Matt pulled out a bottle of pills.

"Where did you-"

"Pulled them off one of the guys outside. Thought we might need painkillers. Are they painkillers?"

"Smart thinking, Matty." She took the bottle and dry-swallowed a pill.

Matt started to touch the wound and stopped. He stood up and grabbed the bottle of scotch.

"That's too nice of a liquor for you to use it to disinfect my wounds." Josie said.

Matt smiled. "It's for me." He said, then took a swallow. "Dad made me take my first drink before stitching up his eye, once."

"I remember those stitches," Josie said. "He was damned proud of you, Matty. But, not to doubt you or anything, you could see when you stitched up your dad."

"Yeah. It's harder, now." He said.

Then he put on rubber gloves, pulled some cotton out of the first aid kit and started cleaning the wound. He could feel the bullet, just below the surface. "Hold on. This is going to hurt." He advised.

Before Josie knew what was happening, Matt had pushed two fingers into the wound and pulled out the bullet. He held the skin together with one hand while holding up the piece of metal with a smile.

"I don't know what to think of you, sometimes."

"I get lucky." He responded as he threaded a needle.

"Still, maybe your sighted friend should do the needle-work."

"What's that?" Foggy asked, walking back inside.

"Do we look less like a bar?" Matt asked, looking up at his friend.

"I don't know. Hey, what are you doing?"

"Getting ready to stitch Josie up."

"That seems like a bad idea."

"You want to do it?" Matt asked.

"There's more to it than, like, poking a needle wherever..."

"I know. I've done this before."

"He wasn't blind, then." Josie added.

"Oh, I stitched up a couple of guys in... Nevermind."

"You were doctoring in Rykers?" Foggy asked.

"Just once or twice. Good people that would have gotten in trouble if they had gone to the medic."

Josie sighed and sat back. "Let's get this over with, then."

Matt quickly sewed some stitches into Josie’s leg, then she bandaged it up. Matt and Foggy were able to convince her to get some sleep while they defended the bar.

Matt was exhausted, but refused to get any sleep, himself.

“What’s going on out there, Foggy?” He asked.

“I don’t know, Buddy. They are saying that Iron Man ended it, though.”

“Hm.”

“Oh, I meant to give this to you, earlier. I found it outside what used to be your apartment. You got lucky, you know.”

Foggy pushed Matt’s folded cane into his hand. “Wow. thanks.”

“How did you get here without it?”

Matt shrugged. “I guess I’ve just walked it so many times… I did have trouble with all the debris.”

“There’s a lot of debris.”

“Did you check on your parents?”

“Yeah, they went to stay with family in Jersey. They’re mad that I’m not with them.”

“Why aren’t you?”

“Because you don’t have any family to be worried about you.”


	8. After the Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Battle of NY, Matt has to start all over.   
> Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO sorry for the long delay. Some people get writer's block, I got posting block. But I'm told that posting a new chapter may actually keep a friend from spiraling into completely dependency on alcohol, so I'm doing what I can.

Matt and Foggy fell asleep, eventually. Matt woke up to the sound of two men running down the street screaming “Aaaayyeeeee!!!!”

“Foggy!” He shook his friend.

“Wha?”

“I think we have trouble.”

The words had just left Matt’s mouth when something flew through a hole in what used to be the window. Matt grabbed Foggy and pushed him toward the back of the room, just before the bottle exploded.

...

Matt woke up with Foggy awkwardly pulling at his arms. "Wha?" He mumbled.

"Too much smoke here, Matty." Foggy said, continuing to try to get a hold of his friend.

"I'm fine." Matt said, unconvincingly, pulling himself free from Foggy.

"You were unconscious."

"Was a bomb."

"Come on. We're going somewhere safe."

"Josie. Can't."

"This was her idea. We are going down to the basement, just for a few hours, so you can nap. There’s no reason to protect this place right now."

Matt took a deep breath and stood up, leaning against Foggy. “You hurt?” Foggy asked.

“Can’t tell.” Matt replied. He hurt all over, but he couldn’t tell if it was anything to be worried about.

…

…

A week later, Matt, Josie, and Foggy stood in what used to be her bar, with an insurance adjuster.

“The policy clearly doesn’t cover an act of war. Our company has concluded-”

Foggy interrupted. “While we know the State of New York has deemed the Battle of New York an act of war, which I disagree with because there was no congressional declaration, the actual damage to this bar was from an explosion that can not be definitively linked to the incident. In fact, it occurred almost 36 hours after the incident concluded.”

“In fact, I’m not even asking for money to re-stock, because Matt here thought far enough ahead to put the expensive stuff away.” Josie added.

“I’ll write up the report and present it to the Company. No promises.”

“That’s all we ask.” Matt said.

The insurance adjuster walked away, likely heading to the building next door.

“That was pretty impressive, Foggy.” Josie said.

“Thank you.” Foggy replied.

“What are you going to do if they don’t pay?” Matt asked.

“I’ll throw a fresh coat of paint on this place and keep going. The rest of this neighborhood probably isn’t going to go back to being what it used to be. Things had gotten too complicated, anyway. I’m tired of mixing martinis.”

"You made a good profit on those martinis." Matt commented.

"It's not all about the money." Josie replied.

Matt was staying with Foggy, again, while he figured out what he was going to do with his life, again. He helped Josie at the bar, but she couldn't pay him. She kept a lower class of patrons, now, so he liked to stay close, for her protection.

He was getting ready to head to the bar one day when his phone rang with a number he didn't recognize.

"Hello?"

"Mister Murdock?"

"Yes."

"I'm with Union Allied Construction Company, and we received your application through one of our subsidiary companies. We are interested in you coming in for an interview."

“Um…”

“Your application was before… The Incident. I would understand if you have already found a position.”

“No, I’m still available. What was your name again?”

“James Wesley. Can you come today?”

“Yes, of course.” Matt replied.

“I’ll email you the details.” Wesley replied, then hung up before Matt could ask anything more.

…

The instructions were for Matt to go to a construction site a few blocks from Josie’s bar, and be escorted from the gate. His suspicions raised even more when the man at the gate welcomed him by name.

“Mister Murdock, right on time.” The man greeted.

“I guess this means I found the right place.”

“Mister Wesley is waiting for you. I’ll show you the way.”

Matt was curious about why this security guard knew the proper way to lead a blind man, but didn’t ask. Taking in the scenery was more important. This was an active construction site, and they were walking on a very narrow path toward a construction trailer.

The security guard knocked on the door.

“Come in.” Wesley responded.

“Mr. Murdock is here to see you.”

“Ah, yes, right on time. Thank you, Reeves.”

The other man squeezed past Matt and closed the door behind him. Matt sensed Wesley walking closer.

“Mr. Murdock, pleased to meet you.” He said, while extending his hand.

“Likewise,” Matt responded, extending his own hand, slightly off from Wesley’s.

“Did you have any trouble finding the site?”

“No.”

“I was told that you are very capable.”

“By whom?” Matt asked.

“Some of the connections that I have made, here in Hell’s Kitchen. They said you used to be a vital part of one of the local watering holes that has suffered in the wake of recent events.”

“Any of those connections have names?” Matt asked.

“Some of them. But what I think you really want to know, is why I invited a blind man to an active construction site for a job interview.”

“I’m hoping you weren’t looking for a welder.” Matt said, but his tone lacked the light-heartedness it should have held.

Wesley laughed, but it wasn’t sincere. Matt could hear his heartbeat while he laughed, and it was the heartbeat of a liar. “No, the position we have in mind for you is much less dangerous.”

“So what is it?” Matt asked.

Wesley took a moment to look at the man before him. Matt’s tone had changed in the few minutes, and he was starting to look like the man from Rykers that Wesley had heard about.

“One of the main goals of my employer is to help bring back Hell’s Kitchen. In order to do this, we have to displace some of the existing residents. Obviously, this is never a pleasant part of the gentrification process, but it is necessary. The way this… creature… destroyed property, there are a lot of people that feel safe in their home, even though their building is about to collapse. We have heard about your skills with people, Mr. Murdock, and with your connection to this neighborhood, we were hoping you could help with public relations.”

“Talking people into leaving their own homes.” Matt said.

“In those rare instances, the residents will be fairly compensated.” Wesley lied.

"Answer a question for me." Matt said.

"Of course."

"Is this business legitimate?"

"Union Allied is a completely legitimate enterprise, Murdock." Wesley said, truthfully.

Matt nodded. "Then I'm in."

"If I may be so bold, are you in need of an apartment?"

"Why do you ask?"

"It's just that the address on your application no longer exists, and we have a property that, through an oversight in the development process, is not suitable for most tenants because of a lighting issue. We would be willing to make you a deal on the rent, well within the salary I intend to offer."

...

"So this guy comes out of nowhere, already knows all about you and he offers you a job and a swanky apartment?"

"I know how it sounds, Foggy."

"Like you're working for the mob?"

"I don't think it's the mob."

"It's some other criminal organization, then?"

"I don't exactly have a lot of options, Foggy. If they ask me to do something I'm not comfortable with, I'll quit."

"And they'll kick you out of that swanky apartment." Foggy added.

"I don't know if the apartment is swanky, yet. I'm not used to having that much space to myself, anyway."

"Good, because when I graduate and all these loans kick in, I may have to live on your couch."

Matt laughed. "You're going to be fine. You got that internship with the hot-shot firm, right?"

"Yeah, it's just that Landman and Zach is a big change from the Innocence Project."

"One you are completely prepared for."

"My wardrobe isn't."

"You want me to pick you out new clothes?" Matt asked.

"I don't think you could do worse than me. Shit, even in the same three t-shirts you always wear, you manage to look like you just stepped out of a magazine. How do you do that?"

"I think it's the sunglasses."

Foggy huffed.

"You want to borrow them?"

"Nah. I'll create my own charm."

"I'm supposed to see the new apartment in a few minutes. Want to come with me?"

"Of course."

"Let's go."

At Matt's new building, Foggy stopped at the landing between the fourth and fifth floors. "Sixth floor with no elevator, are you sure about this?"

"I don't mind the exercise." Matt responded. "You okay?"

"Yeah." He lied. "Let's go."

Matt knocked on the door, and a moment later it opened.

"Hi, I'm Matt Murdock. James Wesley sent me over."

"Of course," the woman greeted.

"I'm Foggy."

"Nice to meet you, Foggy. I'm Karen Page."

"Are you the official Union Allied housing coordinator?" Foggy asked.

"Um, actually I'm a secretary. We don't do much of this, and the woman that would normally do this sort of thing is out of town, so they asked me to meet Mister Murdock. Are you his partner?"

"He's my attorney, Miss Page."

"Oh. I don't think you need to sign a contract or anything today."

"I'm here as a friend. I'm not actually licensed yet."

"Oh. So, I don't know much about this place, but if you want to um, explore, I can lead yvou around or something."

"There is definitely enough room for you to get lost in here." Foggy added.

"Why is it un-rentable?" Matt asked.

"There's a wall of windows with a very bright sign on the other side." Karen explained. "They told me that it's brighter in here during the night than the day."

"Couldn't they just put up curtains?" Foggy asked.

"I don't know." Karen answered. "They are pretty big windows."

Matt liked the sound of her voice. "How long have you been working at Union Allied?" He asked.

"Less than a month."

"You like it there?" Matt asked.

"I don't really know, yet."

"Anything sketchy going on?" Foggy jumped in.

"Like people claiming to be attorneys that haven't graduated yet?"

"Touché. But in my defense, Matt called me the attorney."

"I've told you that associating with me would backfire eventually." Matt quipped.

"But really, Matt. Do you want me to show you around this beast of an apartment?" Foggy asked.

"Sure. Am I in the kitchen, or is there a fridge in the bedroom?"

"You say that like you've never noticed my bedroom and kitchen are in the same room."

"I was under the impression this place was slightly bigger than your studio." Matt ran his hand over the counter. He had already explored the place with his senses and was wondering when they would tell him about the stairs.

"You are going to need some furniture." Foggy replied.

Matt shrugged. "I would need that, either way."

"Maybe some art." Karen added. "This place is a little drab."

"Can't say that would be the top of my priority list, but I'll keep it in mind."

Matt explored the rest of the apartment with Foggy and Karen. "Thank you, Miss Page. I'm sure you need to get back to the office." He said.

"I probably should. Will I be seeing you around?"

"I hope so." Matt said with a grin.

Foggy rolled his eyes. Karen giggled. They stood by the building while she walked away.

"Random job, the perfect apartment, and a hot co-worker that's already giggling around you. This situation is definitely trouble."

"What do I have to lose?" Matt asked. "At least this would give me something real to put on my resume."

"Fine. Maybe with that, I can try to get you a job with Landman & Zach."

"Thanks, buddy."

 


	9. Union Allied

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt starts his new job...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so incredibly sorry for leaving this story as though I abandoned it. Life was turned a little bit upside-down, and I was honestly entertained by other people's fabulous stories so much that I lost all motivation.  
> But, recently, there has been a surge of kudos, and even a review for this story, and it helped push me to getting some more of it out. I hope not to disappear on you again, because I do intend to finish this!  
> Thank you so much to everybody for reading! 
> 
> I'm sorry that this chapter is short. I'm sorry that all of my chapters are short. Those of you that write 2k+ words a day, and it comes out intelligible, I have no idea how you do it!

Matt tried not to touch the money his father left him, but it was too long since his last day at Josie's and he needed to buy some business clothes. Foggy needed clothes for his graduation and internship, so they updated their wardrobes together, yet bought none of the same things.

“This shirt would look fabulous on you, Matt. You should have some color in your wardrobe.” Foggy insisted.

“I don’t want to stand out, Foggy, and that fabric reminds me of prison uniforms.”

“The label says it’s one-hundred percent cotton.” Foggy says.

Matt just shrugged and ran his hands over the next rack. Foggy bought the salmon-colored shirt for himself, assuring Matt that there was a difference between salmon and pink.

Matt looked good when he showed up for his first day at Union Allied in dark pants and a soft, well fitted, button down shirt.

"Good morning, Mister Murdock." The voice of Karen Page greeted him inside the headquarters.

"Miss Page, please, call me Matt."

"Only if you call me Karen."

"It's a deal." He extended his hand for a shake.

"I'm supposed to give you the grand tour and get you settled. Wesley will talk to you this afternoon. We don't usually see him much around here. You must be special."

"Or high-maintenance." Matt deferred.

Karen led him around the building, orienting him with the elevators, restrooms, coffee, and the printers. A new Braille printer had been installed the previous day. At his desk, they had provided more assistive technology than Matt knew existed.

Karen watched as Matt explored the devices. "The IT guy thinks he set everything up right, but he printed out a sheet with his phone number in case you have any problems. It should also have instructions for accessing your email."

Matt found the sheet and ran his fingers over the text. "Yeah, it's all here."

"Then I guess I'll get back to my desk. I'm extension 318, if you need me."

"Thank you, Karen. Is your desk-"

"Second floor. Long corridor to the left. Um... There's a glass door near the end and-"

"How about you show me sometime?" Matt interrupted.

"Sure. Um, I'll see you later." She said, then after a moment of hesitation, walked away.

Matt logged onto his computer and explored the Braille paperwork left for him. He knew his way around assistive technology well enough, but at Rikers, he had very few options. In the time he was there, the technology had changed. He wasn’t as smooth with setting everything up as he had been in his previous life.

After a quick chat with the technical experts, he had finally logged into his email before a familiar person walked through his door.

"I see that Miss Page helped you get settled." Wesley greeted.

"Yes, thank you." Matt replied as the other man walked toward him.

“I hope that you have all the assistive devices that you may need. I don’t anticipate that you will be working at a desk all the time, but we still want to be sure that you have everything you may require to do your job. The guys in IT have been instructed to spare no expense when it comes to accommodations.”

“That’s incredibly generous.” Matt replied. “So far, everything has been great.”

“Good. Now, I have a special gift, for your first day.” Wesley said. “We like to give the new employees a little something, to welcome them to the organization.”

Before Matt could respond, he felt a small box push against his hand.

He opened the box and ran his hands over the cool metal inside. “Glasses?”

“The sunglasses you have are a little scratched up, and I thought you might appreciate a new pair.”

Matt ran his fingers over the smooth surfaces. They were high quality, comfortable glasses that had a different shape than the ones he had worn for so long.

“Thank you.” He said, putting them on and placing his old ones in the box.

“They look great. Now, I know you need to get your email set up and everything, but there is a meeting that I was hoping you would attend. Just to get the feel of how things work."

"Sure. Now?"

"If that works for you." Wesley's tone was accommodating, but Matt could tell otherwise.

“Sure.”

Matt took his cane and followed Wesley through the hallways and up an elevator. He led Matt to a conference room where they met Cecilia, who was perfect for the community relations world. Matt could smell the layers of makeup and hairspray, no doubt coupled with clothing choices that portrayed a perfectly polished appearance. As she stepped forward, Matt heard her stilettos clicking confidently across the floor. She spoke with a perfectly rehearsed combination of sincerity and understanding.

“Today, we are meeting with some business owners from 51st Street, where we have a new project that we are very excited about. Are you familiar with the area, Mr. Murdock?”

“Yeah, I grew up in Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Fantastic!” She replied, the false cheer in her voice almost physically painful. “I’m excited to have you on our team. Our goal with all of these redevelopment projects is to improve Hell’s Kitchen. You are going to love it.”

“I’m sure I will.” Matt lied. He added a fake smile, just to fit in.

"Matthew, I have some other matters to attend to." Wesley said. "If you could sit in on this meeting for today, get a feel of the discussions we are having, then call it a day. Tomorrow we can talk more about your other duties."

“Yes sir.” Matt responded.

With this, Wesley left.

“He never likes to hang around for these things.” Cecilia explained. “He has far more important matters at attend to.”

“Of course,” Matt replied. “Is there anything I can do to help you get ready?”

“Oh no, I have it all settled, and our guests will be here any second. Now, let me see, since you are a hero in Hell’s Kitchen, I’m going to have you sit-”

“What?” Matt interrupted.

“I’m going to have you sit toward the middle of the table.”

“The other part.”

“Well, some long-time residents see you as a hero. These business owners have been around for a while, so they may remember you. I always position people in a room in a way that works best for our goals, and I think that if you are next to me, clearly favorable for the cause, the meeting will be quite successful.”

Matt’s stomach churned at the thought of helping with whatever Cecilia was trying to accomplish, and he had never been fond of being a pawn.

“You know about my past?” Matt asked.

“Of course. Don’t worry about your criminal history, Mr. Murdock. Most of today’s attendees are the types that care more about being a local boy than having spent some time in prison. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”

As she spoke, she pulled his hand to the back of a chair, then continued to click her heels as she walked around the room. The best Matt could tell, she was positioning the chairs just right.

Matt sat through the meeting, listening to the company line about how Union Allied planned to improve Hell’s Kitchen through the acquisition of the building, which had been badly damaged during the attack, and was offering the residents the chance to either take money for relocation expenses, or to invest in a condo in the new building with special financing.

Matt could tell that none of the residents were happy, and that nothing coming from the mouth of Union Allied was the truth. This woman would say whatever these people needed to hear. He was slightly nauseous by the time he walked home.

That was, until he recognized his friend waiting outside his building.

“Hey Matt.” Foggy said.

Matt stopped at the sound of his voice. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

Foggy shrugged. “It’s your first day at the new job. I wanted to celebrate and hear all about it.”

“Come on up.”Matt said, opening the door into his building.

“Ugh. Those stairs.” Foggy replied, following his friend.

In the apartment, Matt went straight to the fridge and got Foggy a bottle of water.

“Thanks buddy.” He said as he took a sip. “First day on the job, and they already gave you a new, sinister look, huh?”

“Because I made you come up the stairs?” Matt replied.

“No, those glasses.”

“The glasses?”

“Some companies just give you a polo shirt with the company emblem. You got red glasses. Is there a more clear sign that you are working for the devil?”

“Red?”

“You didn’t buy those, did you?”

“No, they gave them to me.”

“Well, they are red… and kind of reflective. They look good, like they are really nice glasses.”

“But they are sinister?”

“Red, Matt.”

Matt stood still a moment, thinking.

“Do you remember colors?” Foggy asked in his blunt but gentle way. “I mean, I know you wouldn’t remember salmon, which is still definitely not pink, but red was in that first box of crayons we all got in kindergarten.”

Matt thought for a moment. “Sort of. I guess I remember more about the emotion that particular colors convey than what they look like. Red is a concept. Red is heat and anger.”

“Not necessarily. It’s also the color of love, strawberries, and spaghetti sauce.”

Matt laughed. “You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

“I thought you would never notice. Come on, I’m buying dinner.”


	10. People of the Community

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new job is for Matt to get to know the people around him better... right?

At work the next morning, Matt continued to get to know his computer. He was quickly able to get back to his email.

He had an email from Wesley asking how the meeting the day before had gone. Matt quickly replied with an update. He wasn’t sure why Wesley had the faith in him that he had shown, but Matt wanted to prove that he was a worthwhile hire - for more reasons than his history in Hell’s Kitchen.

Two other emails were from human resources, introduction materials and a list of corporate training courses he would have to complete.

One more email was from a sender Matt hadn’t met, asking him to read an attached document and provide any feedback that he might know about the neighborhood.

It didn’t take long for the mechanical voice to read the document, then Matt went back to the original email and found the sender’s phone number.

“This is Samuel.” The other man answered.

“Hi Samuel. I’m Matt Murdock.”

“Oh, yeah, the new community relations guy. Did you get my email?”

“Yeah, I’ve read through it-”

“Already?”

“Sure.”

“They said it might take you a little while to get up and running.”

“Yeah, it-it took a few minutes, but I’m up to speed.”

“Okay, so you read about the lot on 51st.”

“Yeah, I read it. I’m just not sure what you are wanting me to do.”

“Figure out a way to help us. That’s your job, man. You know these communities. There are a few families that don’t want to move, and it’s holding the neighborhood back.”

“I grew up in the Kitchen, but it’s not like I know everybody.” Matt replied.

“I don’t care. Spend a couple of days at the local bakery or something, expense some coffee. Go out and learn about the neighborhood, figure out what makes it tick.”

Matt double-checked that he wasn't expected anywhere else, and packed up to visit the area he had been hearing so much about.

He had explored his old neighborhood enough, before The Incident, but he hadn't been to the area that was so important to Union Allied since right after getting out of prison. He took in the sounds and smells until he found a place to start conversation.

A bell chimed when he opened the door to what he hoped was a diner. He wasn't familiar with the place, but the smells surrounding it were of coffee and breakfast. Once inside he was struck with a moment of real blindness, not sure if he was supposed to take a seat at a table or wait for somebody to direct.

"Take a seat wherever." A male voice announced.

"Uh, thanks. Is there a counter-"

"Oh, sorry, didn't realize, um..." Matt heard the speaker move swiftly to his side. "You have a preference for a booth, or the counter?"

"Counter's fine." Matt was sure to provide his warmest smile. The speaker's heart rate immediately slowed.

"It's, uh-"

"Over there?" Matt asked, pointing in the direction the man had been standing.

"Yeah. Clear path. You got a little bit of vision?"

"No. Just lucky sometimes."

"I don't have any special menus or anything. There anything in particular you want?"

"Cup of coffee and some local gossip." Matt replied.

"We have plenty of the coffee, but I'm not one for spreading rumors."

"Then I guess I'll just settle for the coffee.”

A cup of coffee was placed in front of Matt. "Need any cream or sugar?"

"No, thank you."

The coffee was good. Matt sipped the liquid and took in the soundscape within the diner. It was late-morning. The breakfast crowd had tapered off and the lunch crowd hadn't arrived yet. There were two older men discussing baseball, but nothing useful within the building.

The waiter disturbed Matt from his eavesdropping by topping off his drink. Matt looked toward the man. "Thanks."

"No problem. So, are you new in town?"

"Thought you didn't deal in gossip?"

"It's not gossip if you are telling me your story."

"My story?"

"I get the feeling you aren't a tourist trying to experience the local flavor."

"Hell's Kitchen, born and raised."

"Oh yeah? I don't remember seeing you around."

"How's it been around here, recently?"

"Well, if you're a local, you know."

Matt sat back and looked toward the suspicious man. "I had an apartment on 49th. It was destroyed in the Incident. But my view of things is a bit... Limited."

"You look like you landed on your feet."

Matt shrugged.

"This area have a lot of damage?" Matt asked.

"Enough to bring in the greedy bastards that profit off of anything like that."

"The what?"

"Oh, you know, those greedy bastards that are buying up the Kitchen, tearing down buildings, running people off. Then they build some fancy overpriced condo and make a killing while they run off to gentrify some other neighborhood."

"But gentrification is good, isn't it?" Matt asked.

"Good for who? Not me, if I can't afford to live near my business."

"The Kitchen has been expensive for a while." Matt argued.

"Some of us got in before that. We got rent control."

"And if your building's condemned-"

"No way we can find another place around here that we can afford. But you should know that, if you're living in the Kitchen."

"Of course. I just didn't realize there was such a gentrification problem."

"All those money hungry developers want are profits. They don't care about the people. I thought when those alien fuckers tore the place up, it would help bring back a little bit of the Kitchen that we once knew, ya know? Maybe it wasn’t pretty, but at least it had a place for us little people."

"Tell me about the people being affected by this."

Matt sat and listened to the man talk about the people of the neighborhood. These were his neighbors, the people he grew up with, the people he listened to every night, at Josie's. His neighborhood was changing, and it wasn't for the better.

Finally, the cafe started to fill up with the lunch rush. Matt thanked the man, tipped generously, and left.

He returned to the office and sat at his computer. Not sure exactly what was expected, he spent a moment listening to the office chatter.

From the crowd of voices, he ended up focusing on one. It wasn't the words, but the man himself that startled Matt.

"Yeah, I'm sure it's clean."

It was a voice from Ryker's, but not anybody he had been friends with.

"I gotta get home tonight. The old lady is mad about me being out the past three..."

It was also the voice from the church. The one that made the little girl's heart race. Matt wondered, briefly, if Union Allied had been following him for that long-he hadn't been back to Father Lantom since he started at Josie’s. There was no way they had been following him before Hell's Kitchen was destroyed.

The same man that bragged about the way he used his women had been with a very scared little girl at Matt's church, and was now in his workplace. Matt knew there wasn't much expected of him, yet, so he closed out of his computer and left for the day.

He was restless. While working for Josie, he had been active, both while stocking the bar through the night and when he occasionally, unbeknownst to Josie, assisted with the security. He didn't throw punches with unruly patrons often, but it did occasionally give him an... Outlet.

Matt went home and changed out of his business clothes. He did a light workout in his living room, one reminiscent of what he would do to stay active when he didn't want to draw attention in prison - jumping jacks, burpees, that sort of thing. But it wasn't fulfilling. He didn't need strength training, he needed a release.

He checked the time and walked up to the roof access. He could feel the last rays of the sun, setting behind the building to the west. He listened, and nobody was watching, so he ran across the roof and jumped to the next building. He tucked into a roll as he landed, pushing onto his feet and smiling with the exhilaration. He caught his breath a moment and listened carefully, making sure there was nobody there to watch as he moved to the next building.

He was three buildings away when he heard the man's voice again. They were practically neighbors. Matt crouched on the roof, listening to him verbally abuse the girl’s mother. His words infuriated Matt.

Time passed and the woman went to bed, but the man did not. Matt sat in horror as he heard him enter the child's room.

The girl didn't scream, but she cried. Matt listened to her cries as he slowly made his way back to his apartment. They kept him up, all night.

...

The next day, Matt called Foggy after work.

"What's up, buddy?" Foggy answered.

"You have a second?" Matt asked.

"Sure thing. I was just sitting on the couch thanking the heavens that nobody literally ate me alive at my new job today."

"That bad?" Matt asked, feeling slightly guilty he forgot that this was Foggy's first day at Landman and Zach.

"It's intense, but so was law school. I'll handle it."

"I'm sure you will."

"But today I'm just exhausted."

"Need me to do anything?" Matt offered.

"I'm good. What did you need to talk about?"

"I, um..." Matt really had no idea how to bring the subject up. "You know that part of my job has been to get to know the neighborhood, right?"

"It's already gone crooked, hasn't it? As your attorney, I recommend-"

"No, I'm fine. I just... I think there's a little girl down the street who's in trouble."

"What kind of trouble?"

"I think... There's a man that's... I think she's being abused."

"What makes you think that?"

"I hear things."

"Gonna need a little bit more information than that, buddy."

"I was near their building, and heard some things. More than once."

"What kinds of things?"

Matt's tone hardened. "He was bragging, Foggy."

“Oh.”

"People... Some people don't think I can hear them." Matt figured it was close enough to being true. "I thought about calling an anonymous line or something. But I wasn't sure, since it's a child."

"I'll find out the right folks and text you a number."

"Thanks, Foggy."

"You're a good man, Matt. Never tell yourself otherwise."

...

Foggy sent the number, and Matt filed a complaint. He had very little to do at work, so he continued to listen to his coworkers. The pedophile continued to show up. He learned more about Union Allied, which as far as he could tell, was about half-legitimate.

Every night, Matt listened to the little girl, but nothing changed. The man still came in to her room and, even from his bed, Matt could hear every whimper.

He wanted to kill him.


	11. Agression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is absolutely completely, totally brought to you buy all of the reviews that trickle in. I might have abandoned this story, but then I get a word from somebody and remember how much I like it, the plans I had for it, and feel like I NEED to finish. So thank you, reviewers. This is for all of you.

Matt couldn’t do anything to the man. He couldn’t go back to prison. The system doesn’t look out for people like him, people low on money, connections, and status. Matt had learned that lesson, and knew that Foggy, or somebody like Foggy, wouldn’t be around to rescue him again. So when he ran, to release his tension, he ran in a different direction, away from the noises of pain that he could recognize.

He found himself outside of Fogwell's, and stopped in his tracks when he realized where his feet had taken him. The sounds and smells took him back to his youth, an innocent and hopeful time to which he could hardly relate, anymore.  

He recognized a voice from Ryker's inside the building, but this time, it was somebody he was happy to hear-a person he had helped get in touch with the Freedom Project, before Foggy came to talk to Matt directly. When Diego Rodriguez was the last one to step out of Fogwell's gym that evening, Matt was waiting.

"You've done well, Rodriguez."

The man's heart raced, then he calmed.

"You scared the shit out of me, Murdock."

"Sorry. Was hoping I could get in a workout."

"I was just closing up. Didn't know you came to Fogwell's."

"It's been a while."

"You could probably hold your own against a lot of these guys."

"I'm not interested in that. I was just hoping to punch the bag a little bit."

"Come back tomorrow, I'll get you in."

Matt bit his lip. "I have a day-job, now, and it's... People see me at the bag and they start asking questions. I end up talking to folks more than actually working up a sweat. Any chance I could get an after-hours membership?"

"Murdock, I owe you my life, man, but I need this job. I can’t mess this up."

"I'll clean up after myself. Won't even turn on the lights." Matt held out some cash. "I'll even pay for my membership."

Rodriguez sighed. "I can't believe I'm doing this." Matt heard him turning the keys to unlock the place. "You need me to show you around or anything?"

Matt inhaled the familiar scents of sweat and blood. "I practically grew up here. I'll be fine."

"Then you know about the back door. Lock up and keep the key." Rodriguez pushed a key into his hand.

"Thanks."

Matt waited until he was sure that he was alone, then went to the boxing ring. He was surprised by a wave of emotion, standing in this space.

Then he heard Stick's voice, in his head, telling him to get to work.

...

"You look good, man. Refreshed and stuff." Foggy greeted as Matt met him on the sidewalk the next day.

Matt grinned. He felt refreshed. "Thanks."

Foggy looked more closely at his friend. "Oh my God, you had a woman last night."

"What?" Matt asked, having actually been taken off-guard.

"You still have dark circles under your eyes-you really need to start sleeping, my friend. But you are, like, relaxed. All the signs of a man who was up all night getting action."

"You have an overactive imagination."

"You have five years of abstinence to make up for. I figured you would get around to it, eventually."

Matt actually blushed at this, anxious to change the subject. "How are things going at L&Z?" He took Foggy's arm as they walked.

"Great!" Foggy lied. "It's the big leagues, for real. You wouldn't believe what these offices are like. It's all glass and steel, with clients that are worth more than the state of Wisconsin."

"Sounds like a big change from the Freedom Project." Matt said.

"It is. But I still feel like I can make a difference, you know?"

"I'm sure you will." Matt replied.

"Now, let's blow your first paycheck on groceries!" Foggy exclaimed, pulling Matt into a small shop.

...

Matt could only sleep after working himself to the point of exhaustion. He would do whatever Union Allied asked for most of the day, go home and eat, then hear the girl. He'd listen to her cries, until he couldn't take it anymore. Sometimes he ran on the roofs, sometimes he went to Fogwell's, sometimes he went to Josie’s, and sometimes he just sat in his apartment, contemplating if this was worse than prison.

Matt found himself planning to hurt the man. He was unable to focus on much else. This was how he missed Wesley walking to his office late one afternoon.

“Matthew?” Wesley said to the open doorway, in lieu of knocking.

“Yes sir?”

“I was wondering how things are going, with you and the community, on that project on 51st.”

“I’ve been submitting the reports.” Matt replied.

“Yes, I’ve seen them. I was wondering, more, if you had any feelings that you couldn’t, or wouldn’t, put into email.”

Matt sat back and straightened his glasses. “The people are unhappy. They aren’t after money, it’s about something more than that.”

“We have offered them a substantial amount of money.” Wesley clarified.

“There’s a lot of history in Hell’s Kitchen. These people thought that the devastation in the neighborhood would mean that they could preserve some of that history for a little longer. They are scared to move.”

“I see.” Wesley replied. “Have you considered approaching them with a more _persuasive_ argument?”

“Excuse me?” Matt replied.

Wesley shifted and adjusted his glasses. “Mister Murdock, I’m going to be perfectly blunt. You came to us with a certain reputation. We were told that while in Rikers and at your little dive bar, you had some special skills that might help people change their mind a bit more… forcefully. I understand that you are trying to walk the straight and narrow, and I have honestly never seen your supposed skills in action. Perhaps the rumors were a bit inflated. But my goal in bringing you to this operation was that you might be able to use some of those hands-on abilities to help our projects move forward. Do you understand?”

Matt’s expression hardened. “I don’t believe that I do.”

Wesley leaned against the desk. “I want the business owners that are blocking the project on 51st to have a change in heart by the end of the month. I need you to make this happen. Use force, if necessary. Enlist some of your prison buddies, if you have to. Just get the job done.”

Matt took a deep breath. “And if I’m not comfortable -”

“I’m sure you won’t have trouble finding another job. We’d be happy to continue renting you the apartment, at full market rate, of course. However, I feel confident that it won’t come to that.”

Matt bit back any response, his hand clenching on the desk while Wesley left his office.

It was all Matt could do to wait until he left the building to throw his cane into an alley and scream. With all of his pent up anger, he climbed to the roof and made his way home.

He paced his apartment for an hour before calling Foggy.

“Matty! I’m not going to be able to do drinks tonight-”

“I’m not thirsty.” Matt replied.

His tone gave Foggy chills. “Matt? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m…” Matt took a breath, trying to calm himself. “Just had a frustrating day at work. Was wondering if you have found any jobs for a blind ex-con over at L&Z, yet.”

“Um, not really. They’ve sort of stuffed me into a closet over here, myself. I probably won’t have that kind of access until they offer me a permanent position. But maybe we can find something? I really have to get this important document all documented right now, but can I call you back later?”

“Yeah, actually, don’t worry about it. Another day isn’t going to hurt. We can talk tomorrow.”

“Okay. Sorry, man. We’ll work something out. I promise.”

“Thanks, Foggy.”

He hung up the phone and took a deep breath. Then he went to his closet, found a dark t-shirt, and ripped it to hide his eyes. He pulled a dark hoodie over his head and tested his senses.

For the moment, this would work just fine.


End file.
